


Tomorrow Will Be Better

by Crucified_To_A_Star



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, M/M, Realistic, it's really just a scene, there is no real plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crucified_To_A_Star/pseuds/Crucified_To_A_Star
Summary: A snippet of life in which Dan wakes up and life feels grey.





	Tomorrow Will Be Better

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a heavier one, y'all. It's written surrounding both my own experiences and the information on Dan's experiences with depression. I typically don't write this kind of thing, but I needed an outlet and ta-da~~~  
> Also, there's no true plot to this; it's mostly just a snippet of life (one of my favorite things to write).

There were mornings where getting out of bed was easy; the hardest part was the cold wood floors and a stiff back. There were mornings where the smell of coffee and toast wafted in from the kitchen and the cold side of his bed made him crave company enough to escape the grasp of sleep. There were mornings where warm hands touched cold arms and kisses pressed to the nape of his neck were a welcomed feeling that called him into consciousness. There were mornings where sunbeams falling through the blinds felt like the heavens touching his skin, pulling him to the living. There were mornings where life was vibrant, breathing, moving. Those were his favorite days.  
Then there were mornings like this morning.  
The sound of his partner milling about the kitchen and making coffee sounded like metal on concrete, scratching his ears and causing him to bury his head into his pillow. The blinds were shut tight, leaving the room a faded color. Everything felt slightly distorted; the room didn’t feel like his, despite the numerous objects identifying it as his. He felt a hollowness in his chest that was strangely crushing, as if his heart was suspended in water making its’ beating all that more difficult. His head hurt, but with a pain he knew ibuprofen wouldn’t solve; besides, he was tired of relying on medication to make himself feel normal. He logically knew that medication was the best thing for him, the best solution, and there was nothing wrong with that; but on mornings like this his logic failed and his insecurities flourished.  
It was mornings like this that he questioned if his partner actually cared about him- if he did, why would he have left the bed before he had woken? Surely he would have waited. Did he dislike the way he slept? Was he loud? A bed hog? Ugly?  
He rolled away from the pillow to stare at the ceiling; it was blank, but so was his mind. Or was it?  
He couldn’t really tell on these days; he thought about nothing and everything all at once, making the day feel like a second and an eternity simultaneously. His mind would race with every possibility and insecurity and every single thing he could drag himself further down with and yet there wasn’t something he could actually pinpoint to thinking about.  
He was constantly confused on days like today. His partner always worried and asked what happened, what was wrong, and how he could fix it. The problem was he didn’t know the answer to any of it. He didn’t know why he was feeling the way he was. He didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know how to fix it. He just didn’t know. It usually made him feel worse and caused a fight.  
His partner was patient, though; so very patient. He usually felt like he didn’t deserve him; like he should let him go to find someone else. That was a thought reserved for days like today. On any other day, he wouldn’t dream of letting him leave. On mornings like this morning, though, he often pondered just ending it so he could move on and find someone not as broken, not as annoying or self centered or needy or annoying or loud.  
Mornings like these were awful; where the weight of his lovers arm and the blanket surrounding him felt less like home and more like a vice, suffocating him until his body screamed for him to get out as quickly as possible.  
Usually, he would run.  
He would leave, wordlessly, silently. He avoided his apartment like the plague because the warmth and comfort he felt within the building made everything worse. Isolation wasn’t a cure, but love wasn’t it either.  
He knew that running from his problems solved nothing- they just chased him down the streets, a ball and chain wrapped around his ankle, dragging him back to his bed. He knew he couldn’t move faster than them, but some days he tried.  
This morning he didn’t.  
This morning was one where his body was already tied to the headboard, his feet cemented in the sheets. He wouldn’t escape the grasp, not today. Today, he was comatose, his mind somewhere farther than even he could reach. He was trapped inside of his own body- stuck in a cycle of knowing his problem, knowing the solution, but being unable to convince himself that he deserved a resolution. He knew he did, but still his body lay unmoving. His body, his mind, and his being were separate on mornings like this. He knew the problem. He knew the solution. He just couldn’t convince himself to complete the simple tasks.  
The door to their bedroom opened quietly, the tall figure entering through the cracks. His footsteps were heavy but muffled underneath socks this morning. He seemed to know what this morning brought. There were clouds hanging in the air, despite it being a sunny autumn day. He knew where they came from and like the weather, he could do nothing to chase them away. He would simply wait out the storm and welcome his lover back once he returned from the travel. He always came back eventually.  
“Drink some water.” It wasn’t a request and he was happy for it.  
Sitting up slightly, he drank. There was a small bit of lemon in it- an appetite stimulant. He was trying.  
The glass was empty and he tried not to focus on the droplets sliding down the inside, hoping his eyes didn’t water.  
“Would you like me to put on some music?” He was trying.  
He nodded in return. They were both trying.  
Moments of silent shuffling lead to a quiet playlist of a soft orchestra played through the apartment. He appreciated the reprieve from his mind.  
His fingers wound in frizzy, knotted curls suddenly and the attention made him bristle. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the idea of such a soft touch in his current state was too much. When he spoke again his voice was full of love and promise, no patronizing or exasperation. “You’ll be fine.”  
Would he though? Would he be fine when silk felt like barbed wire and love felt like fire? Would he be fine when he was stuck in this moment while time moved forward without him? Would he be fine when days of his life were stolen by himself? Would he? He knew he would, he always was. He knew that tomorrow would be a great day, the high after the low. He knew that tomorrow the smell of his partner would be captivating again. He knew that tomorrow a jasmine white tea with a lemon scone would be the best thing to wake to. He knew that tomorrow he would want to watch a movie, go on a walk, go out for dinner. He knew that tomorrow he would feel more alive than ever before. Today was not tomorrow, though, and the dread of existence still clung to him like dust. He knew he would be fine, but today his body felt like an empty armoire sitting in a long abandoned house collecting the dust that flitted through the air. The only thing that got him through days like today was the promise of a day like tomorrow; tomorrow there would be color in life again.  
“Phil?” He finally choked out, his voice hoarse from both sleep and emotion. It was raw and saved specially for his partner.  
“Yes, Daniel?” His voice was soft, deep, an anchor to a hot air balloon.  
“Tomorrow?” Daniel’s voice caught on the word.  
Phil knew what he meant without him saying, he knew the answer he was looking for. The promise came with the softest smile that made Daniel’s eyes water as they searched his lover’s face. It was such a sincere expression, so honest and open and Daniel always knew that when the words flowed from his lips they were the truth. “Tomorrow will be better.”


End file.
